Born to Trouble (22 page)

The couple in front of her repeated the process and then it was her turn. Nervously she looked at the thin-faced officer. ‘My name is Pearl Croft and I’ve come to see my brothers, James and Patrick Croft.’

‘Ward?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘The ward number.’

‘I – I don’t know the ward number.’

‘They’ve been recently admitted?’

‘No.’ Pearl was conscious of other folk behind her. ‘It was years ago.’

‘Which year?’ the officer asked woodenly, seemingly uninterested.

‘I think it was 1903 or maybe the beginning of 1904.’

‘Ages on admittance?’

Pearl gulped. ‘James would have been five or thereabouts. Patrick’s a year younger.’

A ledger was opened and pages flicked. ‘Croft, James and Patrick, West Five,’ the officer called without looking up.

Pearl walked over to the wooden doors, her heart pounding.

The smell which had been faint in the vestibule was stronger in the hall. A composite of urine and cabbage was the only way Pearl could describe it to herself. She was directed to a small wooden table which had two pairs of stools either side of it. There were many of these dotted about the hall. The stout man was sitting with a very old couple, probably his parents, Pearl thought. The old folk looked to be holding hands and they were sitting in silent misery, staring at the man who was talking jovially. The old man must have come from the men’s quarters and the woman from hers. This visiting time, once a week, would be the only time they would see each other.

Tearing her eyes away from the pain in the old people’s faces, Pearl stared down at her hands clasped in her lap. She felt sick with horror and guilt that her baby brothers had ended up in such a place, terrified they would hate her, confused as to how she’d go about getting them out, and wildly elated that she was going to see them again.

The couple who had been in front of her had just had a young girl brought to them by an officer. She was an odd-looking girl and appeared to be simple minded, but she was dressed in the distinctive yellow uniform which stated she was an unmarried mother. Pearl could hear her begging her parents to take her home. Her mother was crying but her father’s face was stony and the next moment he had seized his wife’s arm and pulled her up from her seat, literally dragging her out of the hall as their daughter’s wailing increased. The girl was ushered away by one of the officers present but no sooner had the door at the far end of the room closed than it opened again to reveal an officer with two children.

Pearl’s heart lurched and jumped up into her throat. She had been frightened she wouldn’t recognise her brothers but they both bore a strong resemblance to Seth. She hadn’t expected that, and it tore afresh at her heart. They walked silently towards her, and although she was smiling through her tears there were no answering smiles on their pale thin faces. The calico shirts and trousers they were wearing looked clean enough, but James’s shirt was too small, his arms extending in an ungainly fashion from the sleeves like two sticks on which his red, chapped hands appeared too large.

‘Sit down.’ The officer’s voice was not unkind and she glanced at Pearl as she added, ‘They haven’t had a visitor before so the procedure’s unfamiliar.’

Pearl kept her eyes on the small pinched faces in front of her as she said, ‘I’m their sister but I’ve – I’ve been away for a long time.’

‘Is that so? Well, you have an hour.’ With that the woman turned away and walked off.

‘Hello,’ Pearl said softly as she wiped her eyes on her handkerchief. ‘Do you remember me?’

For a moment she didn’t think they were going to respond as they stared at her. Then as Patrick slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face, James whispered, ‘There was a pram an’ you used to push us.’

‘That’s right.’ She wanted to gather them up in her arms and hug and kiss them. ‘We used to go for walks and play games and sing songs. Can you remember any of the songs we knew?’

James did not reply to this. What he did say was, even more quietly, ‘Mam said you left because we were naughty and you didn’t like us no more.’

Pearl jerked as though she had been slapped across the face. Her mother had been a wicked soul. She had, she had. And she was glad she was dead. ‘That’s not true and Mam was very bad to lie to you like that. I was ill, I had to go far away to get better. I hated leaving you both. I cried every night for a long, long time. I – I missed you very much.’

Patrick shot a quick glance at his brother but James kept his eyes on Pearl. ‘You didn’t say goodbye.’

‘I couldn’t.’ How could she explain what had happened to two small boys? But then as she looked into James’s tense face, the eyes that stared back at her willed her to try. Bending forward, she swallowed to dislodge the lump that was choking her. ‘I was ill when I left because I’d been hurt. I – I’d been attacked, by one of the men who used to come and see Mam. Do you remember them?’

Both boys nodded at this and Pearl told herself that of course they’d remember; their mother had been on the game right until she had died and the boys had been big enough at that point to recall how things had been.

‘Well, this man hurt me so badly I nearly died. For a whole week I was unconscious. Do you know what that means? It’s . . . it’s like when you sleep and don’t know anything that’s happening around you, only with unconsciousness you can’t wake up until you’re made better. The people who looked after me did make me better but they took me far away. I was only a little girl, James. Two years older than you are now. I wanted to come back to you and Patrick but I couldn’t.’

‘They wouldn’t let you?’

It was simpler to nod and agree. ‘No, they wouldn’t let me. But they were kind and looked after me so I grew strong again.’

James’s strained stance didn’t relax. He was mechanically rolling and unrolling the corner of his shirt. ‘Are you going away again?’

‘No, hinny. I’m never going to go away again, I promise.’

The child tried to speak, but couldn’t. Such was the look on his face that Pearl forgot about everything and everyone else. Rising, she moved to their side of the table and knelt down, putting her arms round their thin bodies and squeezing them close. For a moment both boys were as stiff as boards and then as one they relaxed. Pearl sent up a swift prayer of thanks as their arms went round her and they buried their faces in her breast.

‘I’m going to get you out of here as soon as I can.’ After they’d stopped crying and she had wiped their faces, she continued kneeling between them. ‘You’ll come and live with me. It’ll be a squeeze, as I’ve only got one room, and we’ll have to manage carefully if we’re going to have enough for food and rent, but we’ll get by somehow, won’t we?’

Both boys nodded vigorously, Patrick a few seconds after James. Pearl had the feeling he took the cue from his big brother in everything.

‘I don’t know how soon it can be arranged, so you’ll have to be patient for a bit, but you can do that, can’t you?’

This time James was slower to nod. ‘But you will let us come and live with you?’

‘I promise.’ How they would manage she didn’t know. Her room was only large enough to take a single bed, one rickety chest of drawers and one small armchair which was so moth-eaten she was constantly picking up the straw filling and stuffing it back inside the holes in the arms and seat. But it was because of this it was so cheap to rent – that and the poor district. ‘But you’ll have to be good boys until it can be sorted out.’

The hour passed quickly and when a bell clanged signifying the end of visiting time, both boys clung to her again. The officer who had brought them to her reappeared, and at a word from her James and Patrick immediately let go and stood with their heads down like small whipped dogs.

No amount of blinking could keep the scalding tears from falling as Pearl watched the boys being led away, and once they had disappeared through the far doors she took a moment or two to compose herself and dry her eyes. Then she left the hall which was full of people saying goodbye and went to the desk in the vestibule. A different officer was sitting there but like the first one, her face looked as though it would crack if she smiled.

‘Yes?’ She looked up as Pearl stopped in front of her.

‘I wonder if you can help me?’ Pearl began politely. ‘I need to know the procedure for taking my brothers out of here.’

The woman looked her up and down. ‘Taking them where?’

‘Home. Home with me.’

‘You say you are their sister. You have proof of this?’

‘Proof?’ Pearl repeated, slightly nonplussed.

‘A birth certificate?’ the officer said, speaking in such a way that suggested she suspected she was talking to a simpleton. ‘And we would need to know your address and the name of your husband’s employer. I take it you are married?’

Pearl shook her head. ‘No, I’m not married.’

‘But you are living with family?’

Again Pearl shook her head. ‘I have a job,’ she said desperately. ‘I can keep the three of us.’

The woman sat back in her chair. ‘How old are you?’ she asked baldly.

As Pearl didn’t have a birth certificate she thought she’d lose nothing by adding three years to her age. ‘Twenty-one,’ she lied, without blinking.

A small smile touched the stern mouth. ‘You’re game, lass, I’ll say that for you,’ she said, quite kindly now. ‘But you haven’t a snowball’s chance in hell of getting your brothers released into your custody. There’s rules and regulations, see? And we have to be seen to abide by them. What if you took these lads and put them to work on the streets or something like that? Oh, I’m not saying you would, not for a minute, but you’d be surprised how many try and pull the wool over our eyes.’

‘But I have to get them out – I’ve promised them.’

‘What’s this job you’ve got?’

‘It’s in the pickling factory in the East End.’

‘And you earn what? A few bob a week?’

Pearl nodded. Four shillings to be exact, and one shilling and thruppence went immediately on rent.

‘Lass, forget all about this notion. It’ll be kinder to you and them in the long run. In here they’re clothed and fed. They have a roof over their heads and schooling. Come and visit them when you’ve a mind, but leave it at that. Without a man behind you a young lass like you wouldn’t be considered a suitable person by the guardians, not in a month of Sundays.’

Pearl was wringing her hands in her despair. ‘But I promised them.’

The officer straightened, her eyes dropping to the papers on her desk. Her voice brisk, she said, ‘Well, you shouldn’t have.’ It was clearly the end of the conversation.

As Pearl stood undecided, the outer doors opened and a man and woman strode through. The officer she’d been speaking to sprang immediately to her feet and the ones by the wooden inner doors opened them, nodding deferentially as the two sailed past.

The couple hadn’t noticed her or glanced her way, but Pearl felt the blood draining from her body. She would know Mr F anywhere, and such was the shock, she felt sick and faint.

As the officer sat down again she glanced at Pearl. ‘You all right, lass?’ she asked, her voice kind again. ‘Look, don’t take on so. Your brothers are all right.’

‘That. . .’ She had to swallow and hold on to the edge of the table. ‘That couple, the man and woman. Who – who are they?’

The officer, after casting a glance at her colleagues, a glance which said all too clearly, ‘We’ve got a right odd one here,’ said soothingly, ‘That was the workhouse master, Mr Fallow, and his wife, the Matron, but it’s no good thinking they’ll say any different to me ’cos they won’t. Rules are rules and Mr Fallow is a stickler for doing things to the letter.’

‘And how.’

This mutter came from one of the women by the door. Pearl looked over to them and both were staring at her sympathetically. Pulling herself together, she nodded to them and the officer she’d been speaking to and then quickly left the building. Outside, the bitingly cold air smelled clean and fresh. She breathed it in in great gulps, aware she was trembling and that her legs felt weak. It wasn’t until she had passed through the main gates of the workhouse that she came to a halt. She stood for some minutes fighting the waves of nausea.

She wasn’t going to be sick, she wouldn’t let herself be. Once she was walking she continued to tell herself this all the way home, but then she had to hurry to the brick-built privy at the bottom of the small yard.

By the time she emerged white faced and shaking, her stomach was empty and she was chilled to the bone. The rain had turned to sleet and as she looked up into the sky it was dull and heavy, like her heart.

Wearily she entered the house and climbed the stairs to her room. It felt as cold inside as out, but once she had put a match to the fire in the small grate which she’d laid before she’d left for the workhouse, it began to warm up. She placed her kettle over the steel shelf fixed above the grate which was her only means of heating the water she had to bring from the tap in the yard, and when it was boiled made herself a pot of tea. She drank two cups scalding hot without milk and sugar, standing with her back to the fire as she soaked up the warmth.

Once the fire was glowing red she put a piece of bread on her toasting fork and held it out to the hot coals. She ate this and two more slices spread with beef dripping.

The hot tea and food revived her, and slowly the numbness receded which had gripped her since seeing the face of the man who still haunted her dreams. Pulling the battered armchair close to the fire, she sat down. She had to
think,
she told herself. Mr F – Mr
Fallow –
wasn’t as important as getting James and Patrick out of the workhouse. This room wasn’t much – she glanced round the cramped confines made worse by the dingy wallpaper under which hundreds of bugs lived – but anything was better than that place. The lads could sleep in her bed at night, she’d be comfortable enough in this chair, and she’d just have to make a penny stretch to two or three.